Three Scots walk into a bar Part Three
by MM-CB
Summary: "Being a Time Lord, I certainly wouldn't need a diary to keep track of things. However, my lovely companion does keep a diary and has talked me into getting one as well." (Part 3 out of 3)


**Three ****Scots walk into a bar: Part Three**

**A/N: **The links to Parts One and Two are available on my profile.

This story is set somewhere in Season 2 of New Who, post-Tooth and Claw.

Quantarians are my own invention, all other things Doctor Who belong to the BBC.

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Being a Time Lord, I certainly wouldn't need a diary to keep track of things. However, my lovely companion does keep a diary and has talked me into getting one as well. Allons-y!

**Boston, USA, Earth, 2016**

Rose and I (finally) went to planet Barcelona, where she promptly stumbled over one of the local noseless dogs and twisted her ankle. She had the audacity to claim it was my fault, since the "ridiculous" sight of yours truly in swimwear had distracted her from watching where she was going. Humans!

I managed to heal her injury, but still told Rose not to put too much weight on that ankle for a few days. She wasn't happy to hear this, that is until she realised that she could spend those few days visiting her mother. "I really want to tell her about meeting Queen Victoria! An' about the werewolf, an' 'ow we only ended up in 1879 Scotland by accident..." (That last part is something she likely won't let me live down anytime soon.)

Anyway, Rose is spending some time in London while I travelled across the Atlantic and - from Rose's point of view - a few years into the future to escort a criminal Quantarian back to his home planet. He had pretended to be human, which works quite well for these aliens, so long as they hide their furry ears under some kind of headwear or, like this particular Quantarian, under a ski mask. Disguised this way, he had robbed several banks until human police caught him and put him in prison... from which he had escaped just a few hours later, thanks to the Quantarian ability to squeeze themselves through the tiniest openings and cracks. He's now in prison on his home planet, where he's also commited several crimes, and this time will hardly be able to escape: Quantarians keep their prisoners on an island surrounded by water, and their species can't just not swim, they have absolutely no instinct to move their arms and legs in order to stay afloat.

When I returned to Earth, the TARDIS landed in the backyard of a bar. It was ironically called "The Dirty Robber" even though it was mostly frequented by police officers, as I (medical examiner Dr James McCrimmon) soon found out. From that point on my memory is a bit foggy; I unfortunately hadn't expected a 21rst century American bar to serve Ginger Ale with real ginger in it instead of artificial aromas. Hence the warning to my future selves, should they happen to read this: Alcohol doesn't affect Time Lords, but do not eat or drink anything containing ginger! Otherwise you might end up on a karaoke stage, flanked by two Scottish medical examiners, enthusiastically but rather off-key singing "Scotland the Brave" and the Proclaimers' "500 Miles"...

A few songs later, thanks to my Time Lord liver, I had sobered up enough to drive my two co-singers to the local police department - specifically, the morgue in the cellar of the building. They really wanted to try singing "Flower of Scotland" in a large echo-y room and insisted that they be taken to that morgue. Once there, however, they both laid down on an autopsy table each and soon fell asleep.

I prepared two glasses of water and some Aspirin pills for them before quickly leaving. Ever since I woke up from regeneration in one, morgues make me uncomfortable and besides, I never like staying in one place for too long. Time to get in my TARDIS and go back to 2005 London, where I'm quite certain (I won't bet on it though, as that would be an abuse of my privileges as a time traveller) that Rose, too, is slowly becoming bored with being stuck in one place.

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**The End.**


End file.
